


Stage Fright

by NeptunianBaby



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, IT Chapter Two Spoilers, Lost Love, M/M, Yearning, essentially, richie's a sad clown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 11:17:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20723339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeptunianBaby/pseuds/NeptunianBaby
Summary: Richie Tozier's next big comedy special (Spoilers for IT Chapter 2)





	Stage Fright

“Ladies and Gentleman, please welcome to the stage, Richie Tozier!”

Raucous applause. Hundreds of featureless faces all cheering and hollering, and all for him. The crowd is going wild, but Richie remains firmly planted in front of his microphone, his hands clutching its stand like those of a yearning lover, grasping onto their dearest. Richie speaks.

“Thank you England, how’s everyone doing tonight?”

The crowd continues to cheer for him. Richie relishes in the noise, the light, the haze of it all. He’s here, he’s made it, and as long as he keeps up this charade, he’s safe. He does his best to keep his breath steady as he continues. The performance is only beginning

“So uhh, it smells like shit here right? I mean, I get off my plane and the airport is right next to the beautiful, amazing River Thames, and I think ‘Wow, I’ve never been to England before, can’t wait to-’ and then like when a fucking dickhead who farts in an elevator, I just get the purest, most vile whiff of shit. I mean the BAD stuff. I’m nearly puking the goddamn plane peanuts out on the runway. Fuck the River Thames! So I get to my hotel room and I call my agent and I’m like ‘Jerry, I thought I told you to book me a date in England! We must have taken the most wrong fucking turn ever, because I ended up in Assland!’. And Jerry’s like ‘Trashmouth, baby, it’s the river! They throw shit in the river, it’s fine.’. And I’m like, ‘..What’s your point jackass? Yeah I fucking got that they throw shit into the river, that doesn’t change the fact that going outside is like getting hit with a fucking flashbang of hot garbage!’ and, this asshole tells me, he tells me ‘Well it’s fine, eventually you’ll get used to it, don’t be such a pussy.’. So I’m like okay, whatever, I’ll just hang out in my quarantined fucking hotel room, trying my best to jack off without smelling the River Shits, but I get curious. So I start googling, and you know what I find out..? You get used to the smell, because that shit coats your nose! Yeah, for real, the smell just gets all in there and hangs out, and suddenly your mind is just, okay with shit. Now I’M standing up here, dealing with the knowledge that my fucking nose is filled with shit, and YOU’RE all out there having shit in your noses your whole fucking lives! So thanks for coming out, shit noses!”

The crowd is hysterical. Everyone in the house is splitting their sides at Richie’s potty mouthed humor. Richie smiles at them, happy to sink further and further into the comfort their laughs give him

[I wonder if it took him long to get used to th-]

{No, don’t think about it. Forget about it. Drown it out.} He grips his microphone stand tighter. He remains grounded in this reality and this reality alone. His head was his enemy, and the lights were his sanctuary.

“Anyone here on a date?” He pauses for a moment, allowing the murmurs from the crowd their time as necessitated by jokes such as this. “Cool, cool. Just kidding. What the fuck is wrong with you? Taking someone to my show, are you kidding me? I just talked about shit for like, eight minutes, and that’s how you expect to get pussy? Come the fuck on dude, no fucking way.” The audience enjoys that joke. People like to be picked at, to be prodded against. They say you’re most comfortable picking on your closest friend than anyone else.

[Kinda like we were bac-]

“Yeah I used to date this one guy back in college, named Johnson. I know right? Gay guy named Johnson. Ironically, the worst aspect about him was his Johnson. Guy was hung like a fucking plantain, and I don’t even know what those things are. Like, weird fucking tiny bananas. Anyway, one time Johnson wanted to take me out on a date. And I was like ‘Okay sure’ and he takes me out to fucking Applebees. Applebees! The River Thames of food establishments, a big fucking river of shit. So we’re at Applebees, I’m trying my best not to puke up the six Ambien I had before hand, and Johnson is like, ‘Babe, I actually got us tickets to this concert tonight. I wanted to surprise you.’ and in my head I’m thinking, ‘Oh fuck no, he’s gonna take me to see, like, Hootie and the Blowfish or something, kill me now’. And guess what he pulls out? Two front row tickets to god damned mother fucking Hootie and the Blowfish! Needless to say I passed the fuck out after one song of Darius Rucker shitting into a speaker and never spoke to Johnson again. I dated a few other guys throughout college, but none of them ever bought me tickets to see Hootie and the Blowfish. Mostly they would just buy me enough liquor to kill a small elephant.”

[That was all a lie. You never dated anyone seriously, liar. Not after-]

{Ignore it. Keep ignoring it. Keep running away. Keep pretending. You fucking pussy. You stupid, worthless piece of shit who can’t save anyone. Stop thinking about it. Stop! Stop!}

Richie continues to play out the motions of his show. Every single one of his jokes hit. He’s never played a crowd that adored him so much. He is a maestro in his word crafting, conducting the audience’s cheers like his own deafening symphony. The deafness was pleasant. It drowned out his out pathetic, miserable thoughts. But as things went on, Richie could only spiral downward. His jokes became less and less funny. The quips became less and less punchy. His stories became less and less outrageous. His own thoughts kept nagging at him like a saw to the bone. 

{Please stop. I just want to forget right now. It hurts too bad right now.}

[You’re nothing but a clown. A weakling running from the pain. From him. From-]

{Don’t say his name please. Anything but his name. Anything but his name. Anything but his name.}

At this point, he was trembling under the weight of it all, the fear of it all, the disgust of it all, and the audience was beginning to notice. And the audience wasn’t happy.

Where was their fool, playing the demoralization game for their own amusement? Where was the unshakable trashmouth they wanted to see on that stage? Where was the funny man to make them laugh? He wasn’t there anymore. In fact, he was never there. He had never, ever been there. On that stage was a child. A quaking, broken child, who was too loud to even hear the sounds of his own tears hitting the stage.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Suddenly, the charade vanished. The childish play-pretend Richie had been engaging in was through. There were no lights, no crowds, no cheers. Richie Tozier stood alone on an empty stage in a dark auditorium. However, despite the illusion being dead, Richie continued to speak into the mic.

“I have one more story for you all.” His voice was much more somber. Much more real. “I wanted to tell you all the story of this boy I used to know in middle school. This kid,” He spoke slowly, the words choking him to get out. “Was the biggest pussy I had ever met. Wouldn’t step outside unless he was strapped with his body weight in pills and medicine and shit. A big fucking dork, and my best friend. So we grow up together, he’s the most annoying, stupid baby. He never wants to do anything cool without asking his mommy, he’s always taking hits from that stupid fucking inhaler. But I never leave his side. I never wanted to leave his side. Because, as it turns out, the biggest pussy I’ve ever met…” He trails off, his hoarse breath echoing throughout the room. “...was myself. I was so scared of not having him around anymore. I was so scared of him realizing that he was too good for me, that I didn’t deserve someone like him… So, like a million fucking years pass, we had moved away and grown apart, but suddenly we reconnect. And all the things I had forgotten about him all come rushing back and shit. I find out he moved to England, became a ‘Risk Analyst’, and married some woman he hated. What a stupid fucking dork right? I.. I don’t know where I’m going with this story. I don’t want to finish it.” Richie’s voice begins to get louder, as he becomes more and more desperate. “I don’t want to say the rest! It’s not fair! It was my mistake!! Why did he have to die because I was a dumbass!!” Tears are streaming down his face. His jaw aches with every syllable he utters. “He was already brave enough! I was the scared one, I never even told him that, that he was the only person that I’ve ever fucking loved and he always will be!!” He’s screaming by now, the words ringing out in the empty room. The room that he, Richie Tozier, was in. The room that he, Eddie Kaspbrak, was not in. “You already brave enough so why did you have to do that!! It should have been ME!! I LOVE YOU EDDIE KASPBRAK, SO WHY THE FUCK DID YOU HAVE TO LEAVE ME!! WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME!! Why did you.. leave.. me… Eddie...” He falls to his knees, devastated. 

Richie spends a long time crying to himself. He’s panting, exhausted from yelling, eyes red and cheeks stained with fresh tears. It hurt so bad. Every word was like a knife in the heart. Eddie died for him. Eddie died to save him. And now Eddie will never know how in love with him he was. Because Eddie is gone. And he is left alive to pick up the pieces. The shirt which was soaked in Eddie’s blood still remains unwashed in his home. He couldn’t even save Eddie’s body, which was lost beneath the victory he and his friends achieved over a great evil. Richie Tozier hated a lot of people, but none more than himself. But he knows that the life he was given was given to him by Eddie’s sacrifice. He can’t sit here in his own world of make-believe forever. That wouldn’t be what Eddie would have wanted him to do. In fact, if Eddie saw him like this, Richie would never hear the end of it. Eddie would tell him to get up, that he’s a dumbass, and to stop crying over him. Afterall, it was Eddie’s choice to be brave. Eddie chose to save Richie, and in the end, they both knew it.

Richie picks himself up. He removes his microphone from its stand and kicks said stand off the stage. He holds the mic very close to his lips, and gives a few final words.

“I didn’t get to say this the first time, but I do now. I’m a fucking loser. We both are. But Eddie, thank you. You’re the bravest loser I’ve ever met. I fucking love you. We’re losers together, and we always fucking will be. Goodbye, Eddie.”

Mic drop. Richie walks off the stage, without giving the empty crowd a second look. He was on his way to an important get together with his old friends, after all. In the center of the audience, in the best seat in the house, was a single piece of paper, hastily taped onto the seat’s front

“Reserved for Mister E. Kaspbrak, indefinitely.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction! Please feel free to give me any constructive criticism so that I can improve! uwu


End file.
